


Easy Gift Ideas for Dummies

by coveredinfeels



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 11:17:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6077370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coveredinfeels/pseuds/coveredinfeels
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dagna gives amazing gifts, which means Sera has a problem, which means Dorian has a problem, apparently.</p>
<p>That is, other than the one where Sera just invaded The Iron Bull's room and he's naked beneath this not-very-big blanket.</p>
<p>Or: Dorian and Sera are the best worst friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy Gift Ideas for Dummies

Dorian has been interrupted when he's in Bull's company before; by the Chargers in varying states of inebriation and with varying levels of apologeticness, by the Inquisitor, and on one memorable occasion, by the Inquisitor and the _entire war council_.

Only Sera, though, would do it on purpose. “Open up, fancy-britches! I know you're in there, I heard you sausage-jousting earlier.”

Dorian buries his face in Bull's chest and sighs. “There's not a single speck of a chance that she'll be convinced to give up and go away, is there.”

Bull shrugs, not particularly helpfully. “Probably easiest just to see what she wants.”

In the meantime, Sera has obviously gotten bored of waiting for one of them to get out of bed and open the door for her, and has picked the lock. “Widdles made me exploding custard.” she says, by way of greeting and/or explanation as to her presence. It doesn't really function as either greeting, or explanation, to be honest, but there you have it.

“Yes,” Dorian replies, hastily ensuring that the blanket is more or less covering himself. “I know. I found out about it the same way as did quite a lot of Skyhold, particularly the Comte de Chapeau-Plume and whichever poor soul will have to clean what remains of his rather splendid hat off the ceiling. Why are you telling us this _now_?”

“Widdles made me exploding custard.” Sera repeats, looking a little frantic, “And I don't have anything to give her. Shite, how do you top _exploding custard_?”

Bull shifts beside him.“Very carefully.” he says, and Dorian can _feel_ the low shake of his laughter, unimpeded by the elbow carefully applied to his side as a reminder of how Dorian feels about puns.

And he'd been sort of looking forward to a lazy morning hiding from Josephine, who was still on the warpath after the Custard Incident. “If you expect me to help you with gift ideas,” he says, with a sigh, “at let me put some pants on, first.”

“Damn straight,” Sera replies. “I don't want to see your dingle dangling.”

* * *

Sera's specifications for Dagna's gift go like this: _some sort of magic thing, or something, because she's into that, but not shite or scary or creepy or full of demons, yeah?_

She then spends the rest of the conversation dismissing his every suggestion as either _boring_ or _too fucking magic, uugh_. “You know--” Bull says, interrupting Dorian's thought process entirely.

“We're going to the library.” he announces, before he can find out what present-related pun Bull's thought up this time. “I know the _perfect_ book for this task.”

* * *

No to great tomes of semi-forbidden knowledge. No to magical contrivances of wonder. No to _anything that glows weird_.

“The problem is,” Dorian decides, after another hour of fruitless endeavour, “that romantic gifts of a magical nature are generally designed to demonstrate the giver's magical prowess, and you don't have any of that.”

“If you don't stop going on about your magic prowess,” Sera retorts, making a gesture at groin level, “I'm going to put arrows in it. The problem's that your suggestions are shit. Have you even done this before?”

Well, when she puts it like that. “That's _entirely_ beside the point.”

“Shiiite. What, not even for Bull?”

“We hardly qualify as _romantic_.”

Sera laughs, sticking her feet up on a desk and nudging a hundred-year old tome with one boot. Since he doesn't actually think much of the author in question, Dorian lets it slide. “Tell that to the Seeker. She watches you two get all weird-faced at each other and goes all-- _aah_.”

There are so many things wrong with that last sentence, he's not sure where to start, so he tries diversion instead. “Maybe you're overthinking this gift thing. They do say it's the thought that counts.”

“They're idiots, then.” Sera snaps. “I have to get this right, because she's-- I don't know how to say it proper, have you ever had that thing where you're getting down and _filthy_ and you're like wrist deep and all you can think is something dumb like _aww, her nose is cute_? It's like that.”

Well, there's a mental image. But also, oh. _Oh_. “Not-- that scenario, specifically, but I do think I know what you're getting at.” Another moment's thought, and something else pops into mind. “What about research materials? You can murder something rare and vicious and bring her the parts in a box, she'd probably appreciate that.”

Sera lights up at the mention of violence. “I take it all back, your suggestions are the _best_. Let's go kill a dragon.”

He considers, for a moment, pointing out that there are _other_ things they could hunt that would fulfil the requirements quite adequately and which involve rather less risk to both health and wardrobe. “I'll go tell Bull, shall I?”

She grins. “Don't want to leave him out of the fun? _Aww, a dragon-killing date, how romaaaantic._ ”

It probably say something about the terrible effect the South is having on him that he can't quite manage to disagree with her.

Although her Nevarran accent still needs rather a lot of work.

* * *

Bull keeps smiling at him. “What?”

“You invited me dragon-hunting.” Bull says, with a happy sigh. “I was going to suggest it to Sera anyway, but it was real thoughtful of you, Dorian. Thanks.”

It's very difficult to look Bull in the eye when he's being so utterly genuine. Dorian looks straight ahead, instead, to where Sera is gesturing widely while she probably explains to the Inquisitor how she's going to gift-wrap a dragon, or something of the sort. “You were going to suggest this? Are dragon parts a usual component of Qunari romance?”

Bull pauses, just fractionally. “Well, you already know dragon hunting is an easy way to get to my heart. Also, into my pants.”

Sometimes, he wonders if Bull thinks he's subtle, because that was certainly not an answer to the question Dorian just asked. Something to consider for later.

For now, he'll pretend he didn't notice. “Precisely why I voted we go dragon hunting somewhere warm, and hopefully with soft grass.” He holds up one finger in warning. “And you will be replacing any item of clothing you damage.”

Bull grins wider in response, and murmurs something in Qunlat that certainly _sounds_ filthy. He'll count that as a win.

* * *

Because he is neither without manners nor an idiot, Dorian pauses at the entrance to the Undercroft, and knocks, and when that does not result in an answer, knocks again. “Hello?”

“Dagna can't talk now cos' I'm sitting on her face!” comes Sera's voice, slightly muffled through the door. “Fuck off, yeah?”

“A _we're busy_ would have sufficed.” he retorts, although since no further response comes he suspects it goes unheard. Honestly, somebody needs to talk to Sera about monopolising their Arcanist.

He touches the schematic where it lies tucked away in a pocket, the work of much research and a fair amount of money sunk into buying drinks for various Tal Vashoth. “And you owe me a dragon hunt!”


End file.
